Still Breathing
by PadmeSkywalker
Summary: Christian's journey home after 2 years since the death of his love. My first MR fic after a long absence...please read! Hope you enjoy!


Disclaimer - - I don't own Moulin Rouge or anything related to the movie.I just like to play with the characters hehehe.  
  
~ I still feel her skin brush against mine every now and then. The soft, creamy skin that I always loved to caress. I was in awe of her stunning beauty. The smell of her perfume, her eyes gazing into mine, and her arms wrapped around me. All of these memories breathe into me all the days of my life without her. I feel her warm breath against my cheek as she sleeps beside me and for a split second I forget the world that tries to break into our heaven. ~  
  
Christian looked around the small room he had lived in for two and a half years. The walls once bearing papers with his poems and stories were now stripped. The table was empty as was everything in his surrogate home. His book was published and his time in Monmarte was coming to a close. His bags were packed at the door, awaiting his long journey back to England.  
  
~ Late at night she sings to me a little tune. "If I should die this very moment I wouldn't fear. For I've never known completeness like being here. Wrapped in the warmth of you, loving every breath of you." Her voice is gentle and soothing. Despite her dark circles and white pallor she is still stunning. My Love. ~  
  
The Bohemians are all gone. Either disappeared or drank themselves to death. Christian has no more friends to say good-bye. He will miss no one because he thinks that no one will miss him. Monmarte is a dead, dark village now that the Diamond no longer sparkles. Christian trudges through the streets against the bitter wind, clutching his bags in his tired hands. Fighting with all might not to look back. She wouldn't have wanted him to look back.  
  
He occupies an empty compartment. He doesn't want to be in the company of others. They wouldn't understand why he still grieves. Why he suddenly feels old and worn out after only two years. Why he was torn about publishing his book. To publish it would mean to let her go. To sum up one of the most important parts of his life and get over it. However, to not publish would mean to not fulfill her promise. He already let her down in so many ways; he had to make up for something. Slowly he drifts into an uneasy sleep.  
  
~ She always comes to me late at night. No one knows of our little "liaison" and no one is going to know about it. Discovery would shatter our little world. Sometimes I read her some of my poems and she watches intently, soaking in all of my words. I've never felt like this before, like I want to yell at the world that she is mine and she loves me. And I love her. My first love and hopefully only love. Can a penniless poet and a courtesan live happily ever after? ~  
  
~ Oh God she's bleeding. She's choking. Oh God, no. I just got her back. Don't you dare take her away from me. "Satine! Hold on, please hold on. I can't live without you." She smiles at me and talks of me going on..without her. Why is she talking about nonsense? The tears are streaming and I can't stop them. My heart is racing and suddenly my stomach is in knots. "I'll always be with you, I love you." Please no, please don't die. I need you. Don't you leave me! Satine?! And just like that her spirit is gone. Her eyes are empty and her body falls limp. Her lips are cold. My Love? ~  
  
Christian wakes with a start. His breathing is fast but unlike many times before his tears are gone. His eyes are all dried up. The train is slowing down and pulls into the station. He collects his things and gets off. There the family butler is waiting by a carriage. "Good to see you young sir." Christian nods to the smiling man and puts on a smile as well. They ride to the large family townhouse in London. It's winter and his family stays in London until the spring.  
  
His family is not there. The house is dark and empty. They're at a tea party for some socialite that Christian vaguely remembers. He climbs the marble stairs to his old room and it's still exactly the way he left it. The books on the shelves and his freshly made bed all unused. The first thing he unpacks is his typewriter and he gingerly places it on the desk.  
  
~ Things will never be the same. How does my life continue without her? I lay in bed holding her silk robe. Her scent is still fresh and sweet. I'm so tried of crying but it's comforting in a way. No one understands me. No one ever understood me except her and now she's gone. My heart is broken and I sometimes can't breathe. The bastard duke just left. How dare he come between them. Precious time was wasted when I could've been taking care of her. Fucking jerk. I just want to die. The pain feels good mixed with the Absinthe. I want to die. ~  
  
He looked at the red scar on his arm. He traced it with his fingers and is still confused on how the knife got in his hand. The pain was so sweet then, only later Christian realized what an idiot he was. How could he return to his old life when he didn't even understand why things happened the way they did? He couldn't pick up the pieces or pick up where he left off. He had changed so much and learned many lessons.  
  
Christian stared at his typewriter. He then decided he needed to change more. He was sick of everything. He opened the large window and quickly threw out his typewriter. Then he slumped onto the floor and hid from the life he returned to. Why was this so hard?? 


End file.
